


Cursed or Not

by Labyrinth_Layabouts



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cancer, Fluff and Angst, Inevitable character death sometime after the credits roll, It's based off The Fault in Our Stars. It's not going to be a ball of happiness, Kitchen Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-20 15:27:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1515485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Labyrinth_Layabouts/pseuds/Labyrinth_Layabouts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off The Fault in Our Stars by John Green, Cas has cancer and Dean is trying to deal with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cursed or Not

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously I'm playing in other people's sandboxes. Directly pulled from John Green's novel, the themes aren't mine.
> 
> Unbeta'd.

“I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, then all at once.” - The Fault in Our Stars

 

\---------

 

“I lit up like a christmas tree, Dean.” Cas was trying so hard not to be the one crying. He was. Which is why it was particularly frustrating that he couldn’t stop the traitors running down his cheeks. “I wanted to tell you. But it didn’t seem fair. You being in the ICU and all. I thought- if only I can make it okay for you, I’d be fine. Just be okay for him. Be okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

How is any part of this okay? I wanted to say. I wanted to scream. This was not fucking okay. This was so far from it that it left Okay a little note saying they were skipping town and wouldn’t be back for a while. This wasn’t okay. 

But you can’t tell a man with cancer that. So I just told him it was fine. That we’d fight this. And as much as I knew how empty those words always felt to hear, I couldn’t bring myself to settle on anything else. 

I used my thumbs to wipe away the evidence of his tears. Kissing his cracked and salty lips, I whispered that he would be fine. That we’d be fine. And as the oxygen-feeding nubbins tickled my nose, I felt the hollowness of my lies settle somewhere around my stomach. 

He let his arms wrap around my waist, fisting my flannel shirt in his hands. I knew what he was feeling. He was reaching for something to ground him. To pull him back down into the world that existed two seconds before he said the faithful ‘cancer’ word. My hand went up to his neck and he settled his nose somewhere around my collar bone. I could smell the way his scent rested underneath his shampoo. And then I realized I was trying to memorize it, so I shifted until my chin was on his shoulder. 

“Who else knows?” It’s not whispered so much as breathed. But Cas hears fine. 

“Just you. Doctors don’t count in this.” I can feel the smile he tries to pull against my skin. But it’s such a small effort that it’s gone before you can say it was there. 

“How much time?”

“Not enough.” 

And dammit. There are not enough words in the English language to show how those two Cas chose just broke everything I had been holding back. Suddenly I can’t hold him tight enough. And even though my lungs are screaming at me to sit down, I can’t let go of what could be one of my last moments to hold the best man I ever met. The only man I’ve ever loved. And, wow, the world is a shit place. Because couldn’t it have just taken us both out at once? In a freak accident where neither of us see it coming. Just so we don’t have to ever face this. This awful moment where we realize that somewhere down the road, we’re going to have to do this alone. And I don’t give a shit that I’ve never believed in God. Just- Christ, why did it have to be him? Why?

Eventually, the swimming in my head get’s to be too much, and I lower us both to the ground; as gracefully as a man wielding an oxygen cart can. I press my back against the hospital wall and kiss the brown hair under my chin over and over again. He’s practically in my lap, holding himself as I hold him together. 

Maybe it’s too common a sight for these halls, or possibly the nurses know well enough to leave us alone, but no one bothers us for a good long while. I fall asleep with his face pressed to my chest, legs draped over mine as I wrap my arm around his waist while the other comes to rest over his heart. Reassuring myself that he’s still here, still beating. 

Everyone always says how people who get cancer are so strong. But breaking is all a part of realizing you’re still dying. No matter when, or how, shattered hearts are a side effect of biting it. It’s never pretty, and rarely do we deal with it in anyway that can be seen as strong. We’re just as much a mess as the rest of them. We just get the perk of snuffing out before they can see we’re just a candle with less wick instead of a brighter flame. 

I feel his breathing even out just before I fall over into sleep. “I love you, Cas” I whisper into his ear. “I love you”. My last words are lost to the strands of sleep, but they were more for me anyway. A reminder that I still have someone to love. 

A nurse eventually taps me awake. My oxygen tank had fallen over and had the good grace to run low. She tells me that they have to bring a bed through. That our legs were too much in the way to get around. Her voice is kept soft, kind. I can tell she wouldn’t ask us to move unless she absolutely needed to. So I wake Cas with a kiss to his forehead. His eyes are slow to open, but then I get him standing so he can help me up. Blood rushes through my legs and make me a bit lightheaded. Or maybe that’s the lack of oxygen. You never can tell with these things. 

I take Cas home, to my place. Most of his stuff is there anyway. I call Sammy and tell him that I won’t be out of the house for a couple of days. That, yeah, everything’s okay. Just need a few days off. 

We can tell him when Cas is more ready. Sammy can handle it. 

\------

For such a sick guy, you can’t really see it on him. 

I mean, sure, you get the occasional pained face when a hip or two acts up. But he can still out walk me. So that’s saying something. 

It’s easy to get back in the swing of normal now that the grey hospital walls aren’t surrounding us. Reminding us that what we’ve got is finite. Here, Cas and I are fine to be who we are despite the cancer eating its way through us. It’s one of the things that comes with being terminal: you figure out quick how to live with it. Because there’s only two ways to tell a sad story. Funny, and the other way. 

The first night was rough. And while the cricks in my neck definitely didn’t help, spending the night listening to a machine breathe for me while staring at the ceiling certainly added to it. 

I was so afraid I would wake up to him coughing up blood. Or have to watch as his lungs slowly took a dive for the Dean-way. And as hypocritical as it all sounded, I didn’t want to watch all this happen to him. I thought over and over again how this couldn’t be real. That he was in remission and this was just some horrible -- horrible-- late fool’s day prank. But then I’d look over at him and see his chest rise and fall and know that I wasn’t going anywhere. No matter what. I’d spent too long figuring out that where I needed to be was by his side. I wasn’t going to waste the time I had left just because he had become a deadlier grenade than I ever was. 

I finally got why he persisted against my need to put distance between me and all my carnage: because this, this was worth it. 

In the morning, it was easier to ignore the elephant. He got up to make caffeine-free coffee for the already heavily medicated duo and sat pressed against me where I had moved to the couch. 

“Eggs or waffles?” I asked when I could no longer take the growling of my stomach. 

“Definitely waffles.” He says, scrunching his nose at my suggestion of delicious eggs. The standing is a bit off kilter, but once I get a handle on it, I’m off to the kitchen. Dragging a stool from the counter in with me and my handy tank. Being sure to keep my oxygen well away from the flame, I put on some bacon and keep it sizzling as I set to mixing up a batch of waffles. 

It doesn’t take long before the smell of bacon and maple syrup combine into a siren’s call and Cas comes ambling into the kitchen. Taking a cooling piece of bacon and letting out a contented sound that does more for me than is necessary, Cas leans up behind me and lets his chin rest on my shoulder. Sitting on the bar stool makes it an awkward angle, but I lean back into him anyway. He presses kisses across my neck and I let out a warm sigh, knowing he’s kissing across my abundance of freckles. 

“Come on, man.” Any heat the comment might have held is lost when I bring my hand back to tug at the hem of his shirt. 

“Angel kisses, Dean” I can feel him smiling. Damn this man. I turn as much as I can and kiss him full. My hand snakes up to card through his already messed hair and his come down around my waist. The cannula is twisted and getting in the way but damn if I care. Deepening the kiss, I let my other hard rest just under the hem of his tee, tracing my thumb back and forth across the sensitive skin there. I smirk as I feel him shudder out a low breath. 

“Dean-” It’s a warning more than anything else, but I can’t help but to take it as a challenge. Tracing up his back, he arches into the touch. The kiss has as much heat as I can give is while smiling my ass off. I trace my tongue along his lips. Kiss the corner of his mouth. Let his scruff scrape my softened lips. 

He’s smiling as he places a hand against my chest. “Really into doing this now? Or did you want to carb up first?” Making me choose between sex and food? A crueler thing has never been done. 

“Damn those waffles.” I turn back around, twisting myself up more in the line already tangled about me. He grabs a plate and heads out to the dining table. I follow as close as my shitty lungs will let me keep up. “And damn that ass.” He smiles over his shoulder. Damn, this is too easy. I would be content to have this forever. 

It’s too easy to want to hold onto this. And yeah, I know it’s inevitable that things are going to change. We always knew we only had a small infinity. One tiny piece of the bigger cosmic pie. But suddenly knowing you weren’t going to be the first one to leave it behind was a bit hard to swallow. 

“Hey Cas?”

“Hm?”

“You ever seen the Grand Canyon?”

“Of course I have, Dean.”

“Yeah, but, you know, not with me right? Not together.” I can see Cas looking at me. Staring with eyes just the right shade of something.

“We’re not going to do this.” He looks down into his coffee before taking a drink of it. “This ‘last days’ thing. We’ve talked about it before. Things are going to stay the same.”

“Yeah, I know. But we talked about it when we thought I was the one- when I was, you know. First.” 

“That doesn’t change what we talked about. Or why it’s important.” 

“Yeah but-”

He put his coffee mug down heavy on the table. “Dean. I’m no different today than I was yesterday. Can you stop treating me like eggshells already? I’m not going to break. Stop treating me like I’ve got cancer.” 

And that hit it. 

Christ, I’m an idiot. Here I know exactly how it feels to be on the receiving end of mountains of pity --and know exactly how irritating it is-- but I lay it all on Cas like he’s supposed to take it. Shit, he’s right. 

“Shit. Yeah, you’re right. I should be treating you like any other asshole out there.” An easy shove to his arm, small but effective in pulling a smile. 

“An asshole, huh?” Cas raises his eyebrows. 

“An asshole with a great ass, of course. That bit was inferred.” I lean forward and meet him in a kiss with half my lips pulled up into a smile. 

“Mm. Well the asshole across from me tastes like maple syrup.” And damn those crinkled eyes. 

Yeah. I’m kind of in love with this one. Funny how admitting it somehow makes all the rest just a bit easier. Not that it’ll make everything okay. Just that it’s better in these moments.

“Hey Cas, wanna see the inside of my bedroom?” Those smiles are worth the suggestively raised brows.

“Okay.” 

“Okay?”

Okay.


End file.
